healing
How to heal fully and properly.
How to Cope with Grief and the Loss of a Loved One
Grieving the loss of our loved ones is like a never ending battle with ourselves. The pain is deep and our wounds are fresh, yet we manage to survive another day without their presence. In such times of tribulation we go through multiple stages of grief, until we are not yet healed but rather saved; for when we lose someone we love, we almost die with them. A part of us is gone, some parts perhaps you may never retrieve. However, we all have a choice to fight through the battle and cope with our emotions. We can learn how to take it one day at a time, or how I like to call it, one breath at a time. By sharing my very own past experience of how I coped with my pain and struggles, I hope doing so will help shed light on anyone who is struggling and in need of some answers. The past few months have been the most difficult I’ve had to face. My patience, strengths, and weaknesses all have been tested. I have watched my universe flip upside down and have gotten to see life, the grand world I live in, and everything around me change dramatically, causing a shift in the way I see things, and influencing my perspective on living, dying, and all in between. I now see things in a new light because of it, almost like I have a new pair of eyes, seeing for the first time.
By Hillary Nizam7 years ago in Motivation
You Always Find Your Way Back Home
Need we talk about the things that are obvious? The sky is blue, the sun rose this morning, the moon will set again tonight and the waves are still crashing along the shoreline somewhere. Need we explain the currents? The phases of that same moon which some of us rely so heavily upon? Dare I remind you of our president and the men and women who run our country? No, none of this is necessary, none of this is relevant to what I do need to talk about. Whether or not the waves crash along the shoreline does not change how I am feeling. The stage in which the moon finds itself in tonight does not negate nor does it influence the weight I am feeling pressing against my chest. If you think these things are necessary, if you think the current president and the color of the sky are important right now then I am sorry, but I refuse to use my vanishing breath to talk about things we cannot seem to change. So may I bother you for one moment? Burden you with the pain that seems to be wrapping itself around my barely beating heart?
By Amber Paulison7 years ago in Motivation
Damaged People Cannot Spread Healing!
I often thought that I could help people heal without being healed myself. I was broken, and all the pieces of the puzzle of my life laid at the doorstep of everyone who had hurt me. So, on my journey to help others, I was further breaking things, adding salt to their wounds and sticking a new knife inside because all I had to offer them was bitterness and anger. I poured my hurt into them, thinking I was helping them heal. I was damaging the very people who never hurt me. It was not until many, many years later that I realized just how broken and wounded I was, and many years after this realization that another fact came to me, I couldn't help anyone heal being in this condition, and I can't love anyone with these untreated wounds.
By Allata Gonsalves7 years ago in Motivation
A Little Ramble
I used to write every day on an old laptop that was my equivalent of a diary. Every time things seemed too big or too complicated for my frazzled teenage brain to deal with, I would write poems or letters or lyrics. Then later I would go back, read it through and feel exactly how I felt in that moment and understand myself and my emotions just a tiny but more than I did before. I went through a lot when I was younger and chose to deal with most of it through intoxication and creativity and I think after a while, the two became intertwined and I stopped being able to do one without the other. So, as I started spending more of my time sober and as I got older, writing became harder. Reading back what I had written before made me feel too much or scared because I felt nothing at all. Maybe it’s because being an angsty teenager you choose to embrace all the things you’re feeling and when bad things happen, or you react badly to things, it's ok because it's "hormones" and not mental health problems. Or I think that in some ways, drugs and alcohol made me more open with myself about how I was feeling and without them, I couldn’t reach that place that had always been so important to me.
By Simone Bromson7 years ago in Motivation
Seeking Fulfillment: Acknowledgement, Engagement, and Preciousness
I've spoken many times about dealing with personal stress and unforeseen circumstances in and out of the workplace, dealing with them while in the presence of others, while you're by yourself, and in many other scenarios. Two days ago I got the opportunity to sit down and listen to a few of my peers talk about some of the things that were weighing on their mind like ongoing illnesses, emotional distress or having to leave family and children nearly every day to do what they loved to do for a living; despite all of these difficulties. Our initial exchange dealt with these and also being able to identify the real motivation behind their actions. In doing so and detailing our perspectives, I learned that many of them, if not all, had a misconception about the power of acknowledgement.
By The Rogue Scribe7 years ago in Motivation
What Do Your Scars Mean?
It was 2013, I was in my happy place, a Pearl Jam concert. This show was at the Barclays center in Brooklyn. The second night of back to back shows. I was happy. Right before “Betterman,” Eddie Vedder started to talk. What he said that night struck cord in me, and I’ve remembered it to this day.
By Vincent Graziano7 years ago in Motivation
Phoenix Rising
I have left the wolf of darkness, at least just for today, inside my heart back in the dusky hollows of my soul space. Today, if only just for today—I am the phoenix. I said 'falcon' aloud but it feels right, I am at least halfway certain, that my fiery wings have grown back. Like Lucifer, I took a hard fall from grace and was bathed in blackness; like Icarus, my wings melted when I flew too close to the sun and I caught fire. The wings that crease my shoulder blades are small, still spreading, testing plyometrics, pliability, buoyancy, air flow. Colorless, invisible to the naked eye. In the spirit realm I stretch one out, feeling the ache of disuse for far, far too long. The other swings out as I flex my latissimus dorsi, feeling the dual wingspan of the bat-wing, the angel-wing—both of my wings. Both sides of the same soul, returned to me. The muscles are ready to work on finding an updraft, playing with the pitch and yaw of how high I soar—and yet, it is not time for the flames to fully find my ignited spirit, Apache Mama and the other fire deities waiting anxiously for the coals to smolder, smolder to kindling catch, kindling catch to a slow controlled burn of past consequence, breathing my air, my oxygen, clean and mostly pure. Until finally, eventually, any day now—whoosh—I am engulfed in the fires that have cleansed my spirit, that have burnt away the oil-black sludge of the Dark Passenger's hold on me. My skin scorched by the desert sun but not yet burned. My eyes enlightened by the last light, the lusted-after stare into the sun that took my sight once, twice, thrice, before it made me blind to the truth. But now. But now I can see clearly, or at least in the light of the 'Real.' The phoenix is a burning cycle, as understood through mythology and the ancients. I have reached the end of my cycle, dove feet first into the inevitable crash, and now—and now, it is time to pick myself up and rise.
By Andy Reed7 years ago in Motivation
Pondering Existence
Recently, I have faced death. Not only in my family with the death of my beloved Nanna and then Aunt two weeks later, but also within friends’ lives as well—not necessarily being human; family can also be your pets or those close to you that you consider family. I have witnessed the death of two of my friends’ very loved and faithful companions this week. It appears death has begun to rampage our world. The pain I have felt in the last month, and the pain that I have seen in my friends’ lives has left me pondering how fleeting life really is. How short our life is in the span of the age of time itself. When a loved one passes, in our pain we begin to question life itself. What are we here for? What is the point of our existence if life itself is so very fleeting? As someone who suffers with PTSD and depression, these questions, and many similar, flow through my mind consistently. I remember quite recently toward the beginning of this year, I penned the following paragraph. I was in a dark place, having recently had a medical scare.
By River Garman7 years ago in Motivation
The Dust of Our Bones: Pt. 2
All of life was held within the stretching breath of a moment and there was no room for questions. It was all settled inside like sun rising every morning. This was life and all was as it should be. Childhood unraveled in the rhythm of long summer days and wondrous winter nights and abundance was found simply in what was before you.
By L M Anderson7 years ago in Motivation
